


Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall

by pellucid



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pellucid/pseuds/pellucid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders if bodies hold traces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through early season 7, specific for "Revisions" and "Lifeboat."
> 
> Written in October 2006 for Grav_ity in the 2006 [Daniel/Janet Ficathon](http://danjanficathon.livejournal.com/)

There's a party at Jack's house, sort of a welcome back thing, except that no one quite wants to call it that. The flashes are still coming then, and when he sees Janet across the room, one piece of hair curling around her ear, suddenly he's touching her, tasting her, burying himself deep inside her as she comes with a cry. He steps back to sink onto the couch, stunned and half hard, watching her laugh at something Sam said as he tries to assimilate the new information, fit Janet into place.

Later, he comes up behind her, smells her familiar perfume, takes her hand. Her look is questioning, but she doesn't let go, and she follows as he leads her down the hallway, presses her up against the wall in the darkness of Jack's spare bedroom, kisses her, remembers this.

"I've missed you so much," she whispers, her breath hot against the pulse point in his neck.

And he can't answer because he didn't miss her, didn't remember her, and even as he struggles to memorize the feel of her in his arms, the taste of the white wine on her lips and tongue, he is terrified by their human fragility.

***

The night after they return from P3X-289, he shows up on her doorstep at 2:00 am. She doesn't say a word, just takes his coat, leads him to the bedroom, kisses him softly. And he can't explain to her how much he needs this, her hands on his face, his arms, his chest.

He pushes her gently back onto the bed and looks at her. She's flushed, her eyes bright with arousal, and her hair is tousled from sleep; the too-big t-shirt she sleeps in is rucked up over her hips, exposing her blue cotton panties. His mind is still racing from the mission and its implications, and he wonders whether someday he might not remember this moment and the way she looks right now. There are still blank spaces in his mind, things he doesn't remember from before, and the flashes have stopped coming.

"Daniel." Her voice draws him back. "C'mere." 

He slides his palm down her thigh, pausing for a minute to toy with the waistband of her panties, and then pulls her t-shirt over her head. He kisses the plane of her stomach before resting his face between her breasts. Her fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, rubbing methodically, releasing some of the tension built up there.

"You want to tell me about it?" she asks. She was at the briefing, can probably guess what's bothering him.

"The link, the computer. It made them forget. People they loved were just…gone." He shifts his head a little to kiss the swell of her breast. He can hear her heart beating steadily. "The woman we stayed with—Evalla—she just disappeared. She died. And her husband has no memory of her." Janet sighs softly and continues to caress his neck. He spreads his palm across her ribcage, her skin soft under his calloused hand.

She tugs on his shoulder, and he lifts his head to look at her. "You got your memory back," she says, and he doesn't know how to explain, that remembering or not isn't the problem, but that who he is and who he remembers being are no longer the same person. It's the lack of continuity that terrifies him, the gaps when he isn't sure who he is.

But he can't explain, so he kisses her instead, hard and insistent. "Want you," he murmurs, and wonders if it's enough, if this woman can ground him against his own fractured mind.

She moans into his mouth, cants her hips, and reaches for his belt buckle as he cups her through her panties, rubbing the heel of his hand against her clit. He pulls off his shirt and her underwear, runs a hand up her inner thigh, plunges two fingers into her. She's hot and wet and writhing beneath him already, her fingernails on his chest and her mouth hot on his neck, and _this_ is why he wants to remember.

He wonders if bodies hold traces, if he left parts of himself on her when he went away. He had no body, and that, he thinks, is the problem. The memories from before are memories only, disconnected from this new person he is. And suddenly he needs her right now, needs traces of Janet on this new body, traces of himself—familiar and unfamiliar—on her.

She seems to recognize his urgency and helps him get the rest of his clothes off. He moans as she leans in, slides a hand lightly down the length of his cock, whispers in his ear, asks him to fuck her. 

He turns her around, pulling her flush up against him, and he nearly loses it as she grinds her ass against him. He can't stop touching her, his hands on her breasts, stomach, hips, his mouth sucking and biting her shoulder, but he needs her now, and he bends her over the bed, doesn't wait for her to brace, and drives into her hard the first time.

She cries out a little, her hands fisting in the bedclothes, and he keeps thrusting, deep and hard. The fingers of his left hand dig into the flesh of her hip, where there will be bruises tomorrow, while his right reaches around to her lower abdomen, pulling her tight to him. Pressure on that spot just above her pubic hair makes her crazy, he somehow remembers, and he knows he's found it when she moans, tries to meet his thrusts more intensely.

"God, Daniel!" she gasps, and his next slam drives her over the edge, her body convulsing hard around him and against him and he wants her so badly, wants this, wants to remember and to forget and just to feel. He's losing control, thrusts becoming uneven, and his orgasm is like a flash, more intense than the memory flashes, his body taking over his mind, taking over her body, leaving marks.

***

After the Stromos, it's she who comes to him, knocking on the door of his quarters late at night, and he wonders if this is why she released him from the infirmary but confined him to base. It's shaken her, whatever it was that happened to him—something else to add to the list of things he doesn't remember.

"I need to touch you," she says as he closes the door behind her, and he doesn't object as she guides him over to sit on the bed and pulls off his t-shirt. She straddles his legs and looks at him, her hands running smoothly over his chest and shoulders, down his arms. She holds his hands in hers, kissing first one palm, then the other, and finally takes his face in her hands, kissing his brow, his eyes, his lips.

"I couldn't find you today," she says simply, and somehow he understands how scared she was.

"You've got me back now," he answers, threading his fingers through hers and bringing her hand to his mouth. He kisses the tip of each finger in turn, pausing to suckle her thumb.

"Do I?" she asks. And the look on her face tells him she's serious, not because she doubts his loyalty, but because she sees the difference between now and before, she's noticed the gaps, the places where his memory and his identity don't quite line up. Or he imagines she does because he wants her to, wants her to see and to help hold him together.

"Finders keepers," he says, pulling her close and kissing her. "You sifted through the pieces, found Humpty Dumpty among the wreckage, got rid of all those other guys running around in my head. So you get to keep me." He smiles.

"And put you back together again." She smiles too, her hands beginning to rove across his body again. "It's not quite the right metaphor."

"Close enough."

She shifts back and begins to kiss down his neck, running her tongue along his collarbone. His cock had been twitching from her proximity, and he's completely hard as she rubs her thumbs against his nipples. He reaches for the buttons on her uniform blouse, but she bats his hands away, moves further down his body to settle between his legs.

Her fingers are warm against his sides and abdomen and under the waistband of his pajama pants, and he raises his hips to help her slide them off. Her hands are on his thighs, his ass, his stomach, teasing and taunting, and she grins at him before cupping his balls. He inhales sharply and thrusts as her tongue slides the length of the underside of his cock before licking and suckling at his tip.

And she keeps touching him, thighs, balls, belly, cock, and she's everywhere, taking him apart and putting him back together in her hands, her mouth. And he lets go, his orgasm coming all in a rush, as he clutches in her hair and her shoulder, and thrusts into her mouth, and she takes him in as everything shatters, heat and light and the rush of blood in his ears.

He finds her hand as he comes back and holds on tightly, pulls her up to kiss her, tastes himself, salty, on her lips, and feels something like whole.


End file.
